


A Silent Vow

by afteriwake



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Episode Fix-It: s03e03 His Last Vow, F/M, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-26
Updated: 2015-08-26
Packaged: 2018-04-17 07:45:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4658358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The night before Sherlock is to board the plane to Russia, he goes to Molly to make his good-byes, and when the evening takes a turn he didn’t expect he makes a silent vow to come back to her, whatever it takes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Silent Vow

**Author's Note:**

> So quite a few months ago, when I was at the beginning of my depressive period, I asked for prompts, and **mental-odyssey** suggested I use a song by Imagine Dragons (either "Demons" or "Monster") and after hearing "Demons" on the radio by chance yesterday I went with that one (the lyrics used in the fic are from that song). It's a bit angsty but has a more hopeful outcome. Set the evening before the plane scene in "His Last Vow."

He hadn’t meant to let things go the way they had that night. When he had gone to Molly’s the night before he was to leave, he had gone to say good-bye, to try and tell her what he should have said this whole time he’d been back, what he should have told her the minute he had set foot in St. Bart’s when he’d returned to London. He should have told her that she was his rock, that she meant the world to him, that if there was one thing in the world he regretted the most it was that he has hurt her over and over and never succeeded at making it up to her in any measurable way.

That he was leaving her and he didn’t want to and he couldn’t avoid it and he was so very sorry.

He’d had a letter written to give to her, to open when he was gone, just in case he couldn’t get the words out. Expressing his emotions had never been his strong suit; he had known that since he was a child, since he had closed his heart and shut it off from the people around him. But he wanted to _try_ with her because she deserved it. She had given him kindness for so long, let him borrow her strength and never refused him anything, even when she should have, even when it would have been in her own best interest. She at least deserved words that came from the heart, and if he couldn’t speak them then a letter would have to suffice.

She had opened the door with puffy, red-rimmed eyes and he’d wanted to throttle his brother for beating him to the punch. He couldn’t imagine Mycroft had broken the news to her gently that Sherlock was being forced to leave, and he imagined by the state of her expression either he had told her himself or she had figured it out on her own that the trip would be one way. Either way, it was not news she had taken well. She must not have expected to see he, him realized by the wideness of her eyes. She must have expected he’d slink off and leave her without a word. That actually hurt him, that she thought so lowly of him.

He’d tried to think of something to say, tried to get the words to come from his head and his heart to meet up in the middle and come out of his mouth, but before he could say anything she stepped into his space and kissed him. Whatever it was he could have thought to say, she seemed to tell him, he could show her instead. He pulled her close and kissed her hungrily, greedily, heedless that the door was open and anyone could walk by and see them. It was only when she pulled away, breathing hard and resting her head against his chest that words came tumbling out between them: I don’t want you to go. I don’t want to leave. Stay here tonight. Stay close. Are you sure? Yes. Don’t leave me until you have to. Stay until you have to go. I’ll stay. I swear.

He shut the door and she went back to him, pulled him close, kissed him again. He wanted to memorize how every inch of her felt, how every inch of her looked, how every inch of her tasted. He wanted to burn the memory of her deep into his mind so he would never ever forget her, not that he expected to. But he wanted to make sure that the memories he had of her were ones that were worth remembering when he was alone, when he was lonely and wanted to remember a time when he felt alive and normal, when he felt wanted and cared for. He wanted to remember this night for as long as he had left on this earth.

She had music playing in the background, songs playing that he’d never heard before. As clothing was being shed while they made their way to her bedroom he listened, trying to sear the music in with the memory. When he lowered her onto the bed, beginning to press kisses onto her bare flesh, savoring the soft sounds she was making as his lips caressed her skin he pushed the music to the side and concentrated on her, on pleasing her, on trying to make sure this night was everything she could want since this would be the only one they got.

It wasn’t until they were done, sated and sleepy, when she was dozing in his arms and tangled in the quilt he’d thrown over them that he realized the music was still playing. He stroked her hair back as he listened to the song, paying attention to the lyrics. 

_They say it's what you make_  
_I say it's up to fate_  
_It's woven in my soul_  
_I need to let you go_

_Your eyes, they shine so bright_  
_I wanna save that light_  
_I can't escape this now_  
_Unless you show me how_

_When you feel my heat_  
_Look into my eyes_  
_It’s where my demons hide_  
_It’s where my demons hide_  
_Don’t get too close_  
_It’s dark inside_  
_It’s where my demons hide_  
_It’s where my demons hide_

He looked down at her, a decision made. He’d let her close, he’d let her into his head and his heart even though they were places full of dark and dangerous things. She would be there forever, till the end of his days, close to him. And he wanted the end of his days to be a long time coming, longer than the six months his brother predicted until his inevitable demise. He wanted a future with Molly, a future where he could have an actual life, share it with her and grow old with her and spend as much time as he fate would allow them to spend. And he would fight for this, fight until either he was victorious or until he died. That would be his vow to her, and he’d uphold it with everything he could.


End file.
